Chapter Thirty-Five Us #2
“And the exterior plaza?” he asks.
I click forward to the next rendering, which shows the outdoor plaza.
“The plaza becomes an extension of the building,” I explain. “A public performance space. Free concerts, pop-up shows, community festivals.” I look back toward the board. “Art shouldn’t only exist behind a ticket counter.”
For a moment, the room is quiet.
Then Jackson lets out a low, impressed breath.
“Well,” he says, setting his pen down. “You certainly came prepared.”
I swallow, unsure if that means he actually likes what I’ve presented. He seems to, but I know better than to assume anything in situations like this.
Another board member, a man with dark hair, leans forward and clasps his hands together on the table. He stares at me intently, his expression difficult to read, and my stomach begins to churn with worry.
“Well, I have a very serious proposition,” he says, and it feels as though the floor falls right out from beneath my feet.
The moment I step out of Romero’s building, I spot Jayce waiting for me. He’s sitting on a stone bench next to the building and as if he can sense me, he looks up and meets my gaze.
He stands immediately. I start walking toward him, my mind racing and my heart pounding harder with every step. Jayce’s expression shifts the closer I get into a look of concern. He moves forward to meet me halfway, his long strides closing the distance between us.
“Sutton?” he says, scanning my face with concern. “Hey, what happened? Are you okay?”
He reaches me and his hands hover near my arms, like he’s readying to catch me if I fall apart.
For a second, I just stare at him intently. I sigh.
And then a laugh bursts out of me.
Jayce blinks. “What…?”
“I did it,” I breathe, throwing myself into his arms and clinging to him as he hugs me against his chest. “I got the contract. Thank you.”
He chuckles. “Why are you thanking me? You’re the one who did it. I knew you could.”
I smile, pressing my cheek against him. He doesn’t realize how much he’s done for me. How he’s helped me quiet my self-deprecating inner thoughts and the tools he’s given me to help ease my anxiety.
I smile, pressing my cheek against him, breathing in the familiar warmth of his cologne and the steady strength of his body beneath my hands. Jayce’s arm stays wrapped around my shoulders, firm and protective, like it belongs there.
He doesn’t realize how much he’s done for me. How much he’s changed things inside my head.
Before him, my thoughts were a constant battlefield with every mistake replaying on a loop, every insecurity magnified until it felt impossible to breathe through it.
I spent so much time convincing myself I wasn’t enough that I never stopped to question whether that voice in my head was even telling the truth.
Jayce never let that voice win. Not when I spiraled, panicked, or when I wanted to run.
Instead, he’s given me tools. A hand around mine when my thoughts started racing. A calm voice pulling my focus back to the present. The grounding weight of rope around my wrists, reminding me to breathe. To trust. To let go of control in the ways that helped me reclaim it where it mattered.
Every time I doubted myself, he’d looked at me like failure was never even a possibility.
He doesn’t know how much his belief in me has meant.
Yet, at the same time, uncertainty bubbles up inside me.
I don’t want to say it, but I force the words past my lips in a soft voice. “Now that I’ve won the contract, if you want to break things off, we can…”
My voice quivers and I go quiet, the rest of the sentence dissolving in my throat before I can finish it. The silence that follows feels deafening.
Shit.
Why did I lead with that?
What’s he going to say? What if he agrees? I need to tell him how I feel, but how can I after that lead-in? I keep my gaze down, afraid to see his reaction. Afraid that I’ll confess my feelings and he won’t reciprocate them.
The silence stretches between us and I force my gaze up to his. He loosens his hold on me so we can look at each other properly, but he doesn’t let me go. I stand in the circle of his arms, terrified of what he’ll say.
He studies me for several moments, his blue eyes focused, before he opens his mouth, clearly meaning to say something… but before he gets a word out, his phone rings. It startles us both and I jump back as he digs it out of his pocket.
When he sees who’s calling, Jayce’s expression immediately darkens. He glances down at the phone, then back up at me, clearly debating something. For a moment he just lets it ring.
“You don’t have to answer it?” I ask.
“I’d rather not,” he mutters, even as the phone keeps buzzing in his hand.
He exhales slowly through his nose, clearly irritated, and glances at the screen again before looking back at me.
“I don’t want to ruin this moment…” he mutters under his breath.
“You can take the call,” I insist. “Really, it’s okay.”
He hesitates another second, clearly not wanting to take his attention away from me, but with a frustrated shake of his head, he answers.
“Hey,” he grumbles into the phone. “What’s up? I’m busy…”
He trails off as whoever’s on the other side speaks, and I watch his expression grow dark. With a sigh, he pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head.
“Fine. I’m on my way.”
When he hangs up, he meets my gaze, looking almost…ashamed.
“That…that was my PI, Harvey,” he explains. “He wants to meet right away. Says it’s important.”
I frown. “Why do you have a PI?”
“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” he insists, cupping my face with one hand. “I’m sorry. You just landed a massive deal and I should be celebrating with you, not running off to deal with this.”
“You’re not ruining anything,” I assure him.
His mouth twitches like he doesn’t quite believe me.
“Still feels like I am,” he mutters.
He presses a quick kiss to my forehead.
“Take my car and go home. I’ll be back soon and we’ll celebrate. I promise.”
I swallow, wanting to object, but instead I nod.
“Okay,” I murmur.
He gives me an apologetic look as he hands me his keys before he turns to hurry down the sidewalk to grab a cab.
I watch him, my heart heavy, and then hurry to his car.
I drive back to the apartment building and into the parking garage, feeling numb.
Once I’ve parked, I just sit for several minutes, my hands on the steering wheel.
The high of the day hasn’t quite worn off yet, but now worry and uncertainty is twisting through me.
Today should feel incredible. It should feel like the best day of my life.
I landed the Romero contract.
Weeks of work, stress, sleepless nights, and doubt, and I did it. I walked into that room, stood in front of those executives, and delivered the presentation without falling apart.
I should be floating right now. Instead, I feel numb.
There’s a heavy ball of dread sitting deep in the pit of my stomach, twisting tighter every time I replay the last conversation Jayce and I had.
Now that I’ve won the contract… if you want to break things off, we can…
God.
Why did I say that? I squeeze my eyes shut, leaning my head back against the seat.
I should have told him the truth. I should have told him how I feel.
Should’ve properly thanked him, because he really doesn’t know just how incredible his help has been.
I’ve spent years in therapy trying to learn how to manage my anxiety, and yet somehow Jayce has done more for me in a less than two months than any of those therapists ever managed
He sees me, but there’s still so much I don’t know about him.
And why couldn’t he give me an answer to my question?
I push the thought aside and finally get out of the car to head for the elevator, heels clicking along the concrete. During the ride up to our floor, my mind won’t slow down. I hope he doesn’t take long…I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to hold off my anxiety as I wait for him.
The elevator doors slide open to my floor and my phone rings the moment I step into the hallway. I stop to grab it from my purse and frown when I see it’s my dad.
I quickly answer, “Dad?”
“Sutton.” His voice is tight and I immediately can tell something’s wrong. “We have a problem.”
I tense, my stomach twisting with dread. “What kind of problem?”
“We’re missing files. Important ones, Sutt.
Digital files have just disappeared, and paper files have been removed from the archives.
Contracts that were finalized, and some still in negotiation.
Several of them are ones that you’ve been working on.
” Papers shuffle on his end and the panic rises in his voice.
My pulse stutters. “That doesn’t make sense. I triple-check everything. You know that! There’s no way…”
“Sutton,” he interrupts, his tone strained but not accusatory yet.
“I’m not accusing you. I’m just trying to get to the bottom of this.
When you were last in New York… did you by chance move anything?
Reorganize the files? Maybe pull some contracts to review and forget to log them back into the system? ”
My mind races back through the last time I was in the office.
“No,” I say, shaking my head even though he can’t see me. “I never move anything without updating the system. I know how important those records are.”
There’s another rustle of papers.
“Do you have any idea what might have happened? Heard of a staff member having access they shouldn’t have?” he presses. “Maybe send copies to anyone? Consultants? Outside counsel?”
“No,” I insist, the panic building in my chest now. “Everything stays in-house unless it’s logged and approved. You know that’s our policy.”
Silence stretches for a moment on the other end of the line, then he exhales sharply.
“If those versions get out,” he continues, cutting me off, “or if they get in the wrong hands, it could cost us millions.” His voice drops and he mutters, more to himself than to me, “It’s just like before we lost Colson. What the hell is happening?”
My mind scrambles to try and come up with some explanation, then I remember…Leon in the office when my dad and Uncle Kevin were out…
My breath catches as it clicks into place.
“Oh my God,” I whisper and start to hurry toward the penthouse’s door.
“What?” my dad asks. “Sutton, what is it?”
“I…” My gaze lifts and I freeze in place, shock vibrating through me.
Leon is standing at the entrance to the penthouse. For a second, my brain refuses to process what I’m seeing.
He’s leaning against the wall just beside the doorframe, like he’s been waiting there a while.
The hallway lights catch on the rumpled collar of his button-down shirt, the sleeves shoved carelessly up his forearms. There’s a dark sheen of sweat along his temple, and his posture is rigid and coiled, like he’s readying to strike.
His jaw is tight enough that I can see the muscle ticking beneath the skin, and his eyes are locked on me with a kind of burning focus that makes the back of my neck prickle
“Leon…” I blurt out. Panic rips through my chest.
The moment his name leaves my lips, something shifts in his expression. The tight rage doesn’t disappear, but it sharpens. His lips twitch, the smallest hint of a smile curling there.
He raises a knife and I fall silent.
Fuck.
On the phone, my dad’s voice sharpens. “Sutton? Did you just say Leon?”
Leon’s eyes flick to the phone. He steps closer, lifting the knife to my throat, the threat clear as the blade caresses my skin.
His voice is cold when he whispers “Tell him you’ll call him back, then drop the phone.”
My hands shake and I swallow.
“Dad,” I mutter, forcing my voice to hold steady, “I…I need to call you back.”
“Sutton, wait…”
I tap the screen, and move to put the phone back in my purse. Before I tuck it away, I manage to hit the emergency contact button to call Jayce. Please, please, please answer. God, please.
Leon’s eyes are locked on me, but I don’t think he noticed what I did.
“Leon,” I start slowly, my gaze bouncing between the knife and his face. “What are you doing?”
“Open the door,” he demands, ignoring my question.. “And let us in.”
Us?
My stomach drops.
From around the corner, Aubrey steps into view. Her eyes are sharp as they land on me. When she smiles, it’s anything but kind.